Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Lost Phone - Lost History

I thought I had lost my mobile phone. It wasn’t in the usual places – the school bag, the handbag, on top of the DVD player or on the shelf of the display cabinet.

This is not the disaster that most people would experience. It’s not an object that is glued to my hand and held up to an ear twenty four seven. I don’t walk around a supermarket giving a running commentary on the price of fresh pasta. I don’t stand in a queue spilling my conversation in a room-wide radius.

My fingers have never really been taught to text and Orange 241 is probably the most used number – and that just once a month or so. It’s a pay as you go phone and a £20 top up lasts more than a few months.

I seem to have a vague memory of putting the phone in the pocket of my jacket. It’s not a deep pocket and I have even vaguer recollections of putting it elsewhere.

Yesterday I was reconciled to buying a new phone. There was a little shiver of excitement about getting one with a camera, an MP3 player, access to the internet and finally being able to dive into a whole world of apps.

Deep down, I just wanted my old phone back.

It wasn’t the loss of the phone so much as the saved text messages. They span a number of years and take in a whole spectrum of events.

“Biggles flies today!” March 2005 relates to a birthday present of an hours flying lesson with a friend from Joe’s work.

“Get praying – half time. Celtic losing 1-0” July 2005 was somewhere in the Rangers long run of league wins. Joe seemed to link Celtic’s string of losses to being married to me.

“Mel, am gutted about Henbaeu – luv Jobeau” – June 2007 Tim Henman had reached the semi finals in Wimbledon that year and lost. It might have been the Ivanisovich one where he clawed himself back from two sets to love down and match point down to two sets all and…you know the kind of thing.

Then there are a whole series of texts beginning with my sister, Linda being admitted to hospital , tracing her downward spiral to this point:-

“Been trying to call you. Lin died 3 am. Will ring after work” – that from my sister Carla in April 2009.

There is a lot of history to be gleaned from my text messages.

You have probably guessed that I found my phone. It wasn’t in a place I would normally look – inside a shoe!

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